Juniper and Hemlock
by TheTwilightRurouni
Summary: "The other mage generals can lay the mountains low, calm the sea for leagues. But Pent is…something else. Why him?" Louise doesn't need to justify her betrothal to anyone, but for the right person, she might try.


Louise perched on the edge of her chair and looked out over the ballroom. She watched Pent spin in graceful, looping circuits among the other couples, before the quartet, and occasionally between the tables. Even courting as they were, he couldn't have _all_ her dances. Not even most of them. She didn't mind, though. She enjoyed watching him.

His eyes remained on his partner, whoever they were, fair or homely, and his lips were always moving. He was talking, delving into the mind opposite his own.

"What do you like most about him?"

Louise looked up as another lady took a seat beside her. Prince Milain's latest accessory. Louise shouldn't think of her so, but she did. She should remember her name, but she didn't.

"What do you mean?" she asked, stalling for time. There were innumerable things to like about Pent. She wasn't sure she and this woman would share any of those appreciations, though.

"I mean, you played quite nearly to the top. Why didn't you keep going, what made you stop at Count Reglay? I can't tell."

Ah. This question again, if asked somewhat backwardly. She thought for a moment, then smiled. "I love him best for what you can't see."

The woman gave off an impression of rolling her eyes without actually having done so. Louise still wasn't certain how women of the peerage managed it. Perhaps they were born with it.

"Honor, love, and etiquette?" the woman asked. "They're not that hard to find, you didn't have to climb into quite so rarified ranks."

Not so hard to find, and not so hard to fake, either. At least for an evening. "Oh no," she said, "I meant an entirely different sort of unseen asset."

That earned a raised eyebrow. "Vulgar _and_ blunt."

"Vulgar?" Louise laughed. "Oh my, look at the imagination on you! I didn't mean _that_, goodness."

"Oh? Then what?"

Louise shook her head. "See if you can't get a dance with him and find out."

Evidently the woman took it as a challenge, for she removed her dance card and held it beneath Louise's nose. "I have two."

Louise let out a stifled giggle. Pent always danced twice with women he didn't like. _Once to be polite, twice to be infuriating. _He would pretend to forget their name, the second go-round. The woman gave her an odd look and rose from her seat as the song came to an end.

Before she'd had but a moment to herself, another voice replaced the first. "But really, what _do_ you like about him best?"

Louise turned to find almost a mirror image of herself. Coifed blonde hair and stark, blue eyes stared back at her from a face just noticeably older.

"Hellene," she said. She kissed her cousin on either cheek and they sat side by side. "And here I thought I might go the entirety of your farewell ball without seeing you."

"If you did, it would be your intended's fault. He's danced with me three times now, and there've only _been_ twelve of them."

"He's trying to keep you out of Milain's clutches. I think the man still believes he might spirit you away, with half of Bern in the capital and King Desmond to boot."

Both women looked up to the raised dance floor on the ballroom's second level. There was less dancing up there, more discussion of who knew what, between those whose blood ran bluest. Pent should have been up there, too, but that was another thing Louise loved about him.

"Well thank him for me, then," Hellene said. "And answer my question. I heard Riata prodding you, hoping you'd say something stupid. And that 'unseen asset' line was pretty stupid. The other mage generals can lay the mountains low, calm the sea for leagues. But Pent is…something else. Why him?"

Louise eyed Hellene. The other mage generals bore their signs of power quite openly. But Pent's was the most open of all. "Oh, but I meant it, dear cousin. And if you've danced with him three times now, you should know what I mean."

Hellene gave her an odd look, then glanced across the floor to Pent. He was dancing with Milain's date now. The woman stared at him steadfastly, as if she could pry Louise's secret out with force of will alone.

"He's as properly charming and eccentrically approachable as ever," Hellene said. "I didn't notice anything out of the ordinary."

Louise giggled again. No one would ever figure it out. Never in a thousand years. And truly, it was a silly thing to like about Pent, with so many other things to appreciate.

"Dance with him again," she said. "Maybe you'll figure it out."

Hellene gave her a look. "I can't very well ask him to dance again, and my card is full, anyway."

"Then talk to him. It's not hard to pick up on."

Both women sat in silence for the next few minutes until the song ended and the quartet broke for the next quarter hour. Chatter arose as a multitude of nobles and fortunate invitees descended on the refreshment tables.

Pent approached through the crowd and sat next to Louise, opposite Hellene. "Duchess," he said, inclining his head to Hellene. "And my deadeye."

Hellene seemed to grow uncomfortable at the overly familiar address and she quickly left. Everyone knew how Louise had stolen Pent from beneath the noses of a dozen more typically ladylike options, but no one liked to discuss it. At least, not in front of them. When she had gone, Pent leaned over and whispered in Louise's ear.

"What did you say to Riata?" he asked. "She looked like she wanted to read my phrenology without the inconvenience of cracking my skull."

Louise gave him her best impression of wide-eyed innocence. "I didn't say anything. I just said I love you for so very many reasons, most of them being money and power."

"Mm. You hide it so well."

"Would you do me a favor?" Louise asked. "Dance with Hellene again."

Pent's brow furrowed and he looked up to where Prince Milain hovered around his father and King Desmond. "Has Milain been haranguing her again? I cut in every time he tried to get a dance, I thought Hellene's card was full?"

"It is," she said, then with the swiftness of a swallow leaned over and kissed his cheek. He smelled of juniper and hemlock. "Excellent work, my love."

He grinned and said nothing about the public display. "No need to persuade me. Why am I dancing with Hellene again, assuming I can?"

"It wouldn't be ladylike to say."

"Ah. That means it wouldn't be gentlemanlike to ask."

"I love how you think."

He rose. "Not you, too. Enough with the phrenology. You may entrust Hellene to me, whatever your secret motive." He bowed and moved back into the crowd.

Louise decided it was time she follow suite. She'd been in her seat for three dances now, and while she didn't mind, it would be unseemly if she didn't at least try. Someone would ask her to dance, out of sheer etiquette if nothing else. Not more than a few moments passed before she was proven correct, and the second son of a minor lord, lucky to be invited at all, recognized her and asked for the next dance.

"I know what they say about you," he said with a smile, "but I'd like to find out for myself."

Finally. Someone transparent in his interest. "It would be less painful, for you, if we went down to the archery field and I made my point that way."

"Heavens, you can't be that bad. I'll take my chances on the dance floor, Lady Louise." He bowed and retreated with promises to find her by the staircase when the next song started.

With her social obligation fulfilled for the moment, Louise fell back into people watching. So many she didn't recognize had turned out for Hellene's farewell. She imagined a great number of them wanted to see for themselves if Hellene truly would fare well. Her eyes flicked back up to the balcony level. King Desmond's temper had a reputation all its own. There were the things King Desmond did, and then there were the things King Desmond did when angry. He was not a man to incense. Hellene looked happy, standing by his side now, and Louise only hoped she could remain so.

Louise grinned as she caught sight of Pent making his way up the stairs. He approached the two kings, made his greetings, and then spoke to Hellene. She removed her dance card and looked at it for a moment, then made some amendment to her list. Pent left and Hellene's head whipped around. She fixed Louise with a gaze to stun an ox. Thankfully, the distance meant Louise could feign profound interest in the ceiling. She followed its vaulted heights around and down until she was no longer looking at her cousin.

She wondered what dance Pent had gotten, and in the very next moment she got her answer. The quartet began to play once more and as she made her way to the staircase she saw Pent leading Hellene down by the hand.

Her own partner soon arrived and they were on the floor a half step behind Pent and Hellene. They whirled throughout the room. Louise spared only the barest of thoughts to following the man's lead, instead doing her best to watch Hellene without seeming to do so.

"Pardon?" she said, realizing her partner had addressed her.

"I said, if you dance this well I don't need to see your archery."

"I never said I was awful at dance," she answered.

"Rumor is that's exactly what you said."

"Only by comparison."

The rest of the song passed in a blur. Before she knew it, the man had kissed her hand and threaded back into the crowd. Pent and Hellene were not to be found.

With a sigh she left the dance floor and found her beloved chair. She could spend hours filling straw men with razor-heads, but on the dancefloor she was a sieve. A moment later Pent's familiar form appeared over the balcony above. He gave her a quizzical tilt of the head and she returned him a smile. He nodded toward the arched glass entryway and she turned to see Hellene making goodbyes with Prince Milain. The king's own son was ducking out of the ball early. He'd hoisted the white, after all. When the two had finished Hellene waded back into the crowd and angled for Louise.

"Well?" Louise asked.

Hellene raised her eyes to the ceiling. "I have no idea. He still wears a scent of juniper and hemlock, I noticed that much."

"Pent doesn't wear cologne."

Hellene quirked an eyebrow. "He most certainly does. He reeked of it."

Louise shook her head. "No, he doesn't, and that's your answer, dear cousin. It's his mage's mark."

Athos was ageless in his power. Erk could pull magic from a jumble of gibberish, so logical was his mind. Bramimond, whom she was not supposed to know about, had never possessed a voice of his own. But Pent smelled of juniper and hemlock.

"But that's ridiculous," Hellene said.

"Isn't it?"

It was ridiculous and silly and downright unimpressive. But she loved him for it, because it was exactly the mark she'd expect of him. It was apparent, impossible to hide, sensuously powerful yet unalarming. Most people didn't recognize it for what it truly was, even though it was obvious. Most people didn't recognize Pent for who he truly was, either. Even though it was obvious.

END


End file.
